


You can still be a loser on Christmas

by agentlithium



Series: emotionally unstable holidays [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, jim hates his life, lame tropes, oswald is relentless in his pursuit for love, sorry i meant dick, whats new tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentlithium/pseuds/agentlithium
Summary: sequel to my halloween fic "loneliness doesn't go away because it's halloween, idiot". this is a mess. happy holidays.





	

Oswald was a sneaky, conniving, devious little son of a bitch. He watched Jim for weeks, making sure that he didn’t have a single plan for the entire month of December. He knew Jim would rather die than go visit his brother and his family and he didn’t exactly have many friends, let alone ones who are holding any sort of important seasonal events. From what he observed, the only plans Jim had for the upcoming holiday was to drink or work. Recently reinstated, he had a lot on his plate, but not enough to excuse him from coming to Oswald’s little get-together.

Jim was never really a fan of Christmas. It was fun when he was a child, sure. He would wake up to a mountainous pile of presents and a stocking full of candy. Then he grew up, found out Santa wasn’t real, and everything went to shit. At least as an adult he can make his own decisions and not spend a whole day visiting family who don’t want to see him anyway. He would admit that he had grown to be a bit of a downer, so he didn’t really blame them. Also, money was kind of tight at that moment and he was in no state to be buying presents for others when he couldn’t even dream of treating himself. He would spend Christmas working this year, but Christmas or not, Jim Gordon never gets what he wants.

A little envelope with his name on it sat upon his desk when he returned from a crime scene. From it, he removed a folded piece of black paper with gold designs on the front and a swirly font spelling out “Happy Holidays”. He opened it with a nasty sensation stirring in his gut.

_ You have been invited to Mayor Cobblepot’s Christmas Party. _

He felt his lunch slowly pushing back up from his stomach. Not even after facing the ever-gruesome sight of a mangled corpse did he feel so sick as he did now. He mentally kicked himself for attending Penguin’s Halloween party a couple of months prior. If he just told him to fuck off then and there, he wouldn’t’ve received another invitation for his Christmas party. At least he didn’t do it in person this time. Jim definitely wasn’t going to this party. He folded the piece of cardstock once, twice, three times, and threw it rather harshly to the garbage can by his desk. He was grateful that Harvey didn’t see the invitation, waltzing over a minute or so later with a heavy folder of paperwork to throw Jim’s way. If he hadn’t already forgotten about Penguin, this would assure that he did.

But he didn’t. Maybe for a few hours, it slipped his mind; however, come that night, he was plagued with thoughts that both disgusted and enticed him. 

_ If you go, you can drink expensive alcohol, eat nice food, then fucking bounce. _

He remembered the food and champagne from last time. One look to the microwave dinner and cheap whiskey in front of him was enough to have him almost convinced.

_ Wait, I’d rather have my knees stapled to my forehead than see Penguin, ever. And it’s a black-tie event, right? Fuck that. _

A difficult choice for a broke alcoholic indeed. Unfortunately, the promise of a plateful of fancy finger-foods and a simple glass of booze worth more than 20 bucks was enough to have him rooting through the trash for that invitation the next day. It was set for December 24th. Christmas Eve with Penguin and his pretentious rich friends? A part of him still protested, appalled at the very idea, but no matter how much it cried out and pleaded to Jim’s sanity, it did nothing to deter him. When he found himself, weeks later, staring down his reflection in the mirror, plain black tuxedo looking admittedly very nice on him, he was completely dead inside. He didn’t care about whatever Penguin’s ulterior motives were (and he definitely had one), he was going to steal something decent to eat and hey, nothing wrong with looking good while doing it.

He was late.  _ Fashionably so _ , he would say, if asked. He showed his crumpled invitation to the mountain of a man at the door. Beady little eyes surveyed him for a moment before he was permitted inside. It was a much smaller venue. A little club a short cab right from Jim’s apartment. He was payed no attention as everyone was deep in conversation with one another.  _ Thank God _ , he thought. He hadn’t even taken more than a step inside when a young man appeared in front of him with an upturned nose and a glass of sparkling wine. He nodded in thanks, failing to restrain himself from downing the whole thing in one gulp. His gaze swept over the room, looking for wherever the catering had set up. He was still somewhat nervous, keeping an eye out for any sign of Oswald’s presence.  _ It’s going to be the same as last time: you stay until you see him, then you leave immediately,  _ he reassured himself. He took a deep breath. Just as long as he can avoid Penguin long enough to acquire the mix-matched meal he was searching for, everything would be fine.

“Oh, Jim! How lovely to see you!”

_ Son of a fucking bitch. _

“Hi,” Jim tried to sound calm, though he spoke through gritted teeth. Now what? Leave hungry or stay and eat, but talk with Penguin all night?

“You look absolutely dashing this evening.” Oswald hobbled over until he was way too close to Jim. Did he _ need _ to say shit like that all the time?

“Thanks,” Jim muttered uncomfortably. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the banquet table covered in trays of various snacks and such. With all the subtlety of a punch in the mouth, he began slipping off in the direction of the table. Oswald, of course, followed to continue their conversation, much to Jim’s dismay.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Just got here.”

“Ah, I see.” Even Oswald was quickly running out of things to say when faced with such obvious rejection. Jim was not at that table for more than a second when he was already stuffing his face like he hadn’t eaten since Halloween.

“You like the stuffed scallops?” Oswald commented.

“Mhm,” Jim struggled to swallow the large mass of scallop he inhaled. Oswald nodded and continued on.

“This is a much smaller occasion than my Halloween bash. Only my closest associates are here tonight. Christmas, as commercialized as it is these days, I believe is a time for being with those you care for most.” Jim almost heaved. Him and Oswald weren’t friends or “close associates” and Oswald was certainly not someone he cared for. Their history together was messy and complicated, a constant game of who’s angry at who, who owes who what, who’s ready to bite who’s head clean off. Jim doesn’t know why Oswald invited him here. He doesn’t know why he showed up. He went to Oswald’s last party, so that should’ve been enough to satiate that waddling little human equivalent of a viral throat infection and his desire to torture Jim with social obligations. The food and booze was good, but that couldn’t be the only reason why he was here. Thinking about all of this gave him a migraine, so he was almost thankful when Oswald took his wrist in his frail hand.  _ Shit, was he talking that whole time? _

“Come. It’s somewhat quieter over here.” Jim returned to the situation at hand. Oswald was leading him away from the party itself and to a short hall that lead to a back exit.

“Much better, couldn’t hear a thing with all the chatter,” Oswald said with a smile. Jim was already tuning him out.

“I do love entertaining, but it really does take- oh.” When Oswald stopped nattering on, Jim noticed he was staring at a place above their heads. Slowly, with a heavy feeling descending upon him, he glanced upward himself. There he saw Oswald’s ulterior motive.

“Mistletoe brings good luck, you know.”

“You planned this,” Jim hissed, dropping all neutrality or friendliness from his tone.

“This tradition goes all the way back to Babylonian times—”

“I’m not kissing you. This is why you dragged me back here.”

“I had no idea, Jim. Just a happy coincidence,” the smirk on his face contradicted his claim of innocence. He was obviously very pleased with himself and his little scheme. Jim wasn’t taking this.

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh, come on, Jim,” Oswald sounded slightly nervous. “One kiss won’t kill you.”

“No, but I’ll kill myself after.” The second this came out of his mouth, he stopped in his tracks. Oswald, too, fell silent.  _ Okay, that was a bit harsh. _ Even though it was Oswald he was referring to, the man who’s been an unrelenting pain in the ass for Jim since they met, he shouldn’t’ve said something so mean. Thoughts began flying through his head at the speed of light. Oswald wasn’t above murder, so Jim could’ve just sealed his fate. Then again, if Oswald allows him to live, he’ll feel an unnecessary amount of guilt for saying what he did.  _ Why? You’ve said a lot worse. Why can’t you say something like that to him without it eating you up? _ Fuck. He turned on his heel before he could really think about what he was going to do. In a swift motion, both hands grabbed either side of Oswald’s face and pressed their lips together in a very angry kiss. It lasted no more than a few seconds, but in that short period of time, a whirlwind of emotions made Jim feel relieved, confused, enraged, and unbelievably ill, all at the same time. Upon pulling back, he faltered. Oswald’s pale eyes were wide, cheeks flaming red. Jim needed a moment to remember that he was an emotionally stunted tough guy and only then could his upper lip pull up into his signature snarl.

“Leave me alone,” he growled as threateningly as possible. He tore off down the hall, through the crowd, and after a brief pause to grab some sort of pastry from the buffet table, he was gone. Oswald was stunned. He was ready to jump out of his skin, but a number of reasons, including his shock and every scientific law, prevented this from happening. A wide grin splayed out across his face. _ ‘Leave me alone’? After that? Oh, Jim, there’s not a chance in hell I’m letting you go now. _


End file.
